


Valet + Ballet

by valorikei



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, Dancing, Injury, M/M, Misunderstandings, Misunderstood Crush, Not Actually Unrequited Love, dance injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4192314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valorikei/pseuds/valorikei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred works as a valet at a theatre and falls head over heels for the male lead. /RusAme main pair, a big misunderstanding, present fic for a friend. M for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valet + Ballet

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a present for my friend efficaciousicarus on tumblr!

_One, two, leap!_

Alfred sighed softly as he counted the steps, eyes tracing every movement longingly as powerful muscles propelled a chiseled and handsome body into the air, the man graceful and elegant in his display of physical prowess. The lights shone on his pale skin and platinum hair, the sequins on his elaborate and skin-tight uniform dazzling as he spun and glided into the center of the stage, the ballerina swooning into his arms as they took a short pause. The music swelled and in a dazzling flash the woman was spun up into the air, caught effortlessly by her male counterpart before being placed back on the stage to spin away, the audience cheering as the two pranced around each other. There was no need for words and dialogue, all the emotions they could dream of expressed solely in longing looks and quick footwork.

Alfred truly loved his job.

 _Oh, here it comes_ , Alfred held his breath, recognizing this particular portion of the music and choreography, the audience sitting on the edge of their seats as the exquisite man began his solo. Alfred ogled his powerful body, his slender yet immensely muscular build was simply enchanting, the way his face was relaxed with ease instead of strained like any other athlete's would have been. And then a member of the audience caught Alfred's attention, standing up in the middle of the best part and making him look away from the beauty on stage, asking for a light so they could walk to the aisle.

Shining his flashlight at the ground to guide the way, Alfred smiled pleasantly at the man escaping from the show, not showing his annoyance anywhere on his face as he whispered the directions to the bathroom. He held the door open just so, making sure not too much of the light outside got into the hall.

Just as he turned back, the song was over, Ivan bowed partly over with his chest heaving and a smile on his face as he welcomed the audience's applause. Sighing softly, Alfred shivered in delight as he watched Ivan straighten and strut off the stage, the curtains sliding across the front as intermission was called.

"Al, your shift is up," his replacement called out, Alfred nodding slowly and sadly to his friend and coworker. Alfred took off his pin as the two left the main hall, leaving behind the chattering audience as people eagerly discussed the performance in haughty, high and mighty tones.

"Yeah, yeah… Sorry, I guess the dancer's are really distracting," he laughed, grinning his casual smile as Feliciano giggled at him, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. The blond took it easily, shrugging away from the movement as the bubbly young man leaned closer.

"You really love when the ballet is in town, don't you?" he teased, his eyes narrow with mischievous fun, his smile wide and happy. Alfred shuddered a little bit, taking all of his willpower not to blush as he remembered the handsome dancer he had spent the past hour watching. "Is there a girl you like?"

"What? N-no way!" Alfred shook his head quickly, but that only made Feliciano smile even more, laughing as his comment made Alfred all flustered. The brunette gave him a wink, tilting his head to one side while he waited for Alfred to stop shaking his head.

"You know, I think they stay for a little while after the show, to talk and stuff. You should hang around and wait for them! Maybe you can talk to whoever you're crushing on!"

"I-it isn't like  _that_ ," he protested valiantly, but the offer was certainly too tempting to pass up. He'd get to see Ivan outside of performances? Maybe even without his uniform and make up on? Maybe… Maybe he could even chat with him…

"Yeah! Ludwig and I hang out sometimes, you should totally come with me to wait for them!" Feliciano nodded excitedly, full of energy and life.

And how could Alfred possibly say no?

* * *

"Ludwig, this is my friend Alfred!" Feliciano giggled excitedly once most of the theater's patrons had left for their homes already, dragging Alfred forcefully behind him. The head choreographer perked and turned to them, his hair perfectly gelled back as his attention pulled away from his dancers.

"Oh, hello again," he nodded to Feliciano, accepting the short brunette's affectionate hug with a small and barely noticeable grimace, his girls giggling at him before moving away to give them some privacy. Alfred smiled and shook his hand firmly when Feliciano finally gave him enough space to do so.

"Y'all were fantastic today! I was really impressed!" Alfred praised before gasping, feeling as if perhaps his compliment had come off as rude. He instantly continued to babble, struggling to mend his mistake as the stoic man just stared blankly at him. "I-I mean, you guys are always impressive a-and beautiful, and uhm, the music was spot on and u-uh-"

"Thank you," the man cut him off with a short nod, Feliciano giggling before engaging him in a short dialogue in German, translating for Alfred when it was clear the foreigner didn't quite have a total grasp on Alfred's stuttering mess of compliments. Alfred listened in hesitantly, not really understanding what was going on between the two, eventually pulling away from Feliciano's side to look out for the handsome primo ballerino that captivated his attention everytime he passed.

Through the throng of tired dancers and equally exhausted musicians, Alfred searched in vain for his crush, walking about on tiptoe to see over their heads, not having realized just how tall the troupe's dancers were. They looked so dainty and petite on stage, but up close they exceeded his expectations in more ways than one. Frail bodies abandoned for sinewy muscles, the graceful women moved nimbly out of his way as his tromping elephant feet nearly crushed their strong yet dainty ones.

Finally, there he was! No wonder Alfred had so much trouble finding the tall man, Ivan was sitting against a wall with one of the other male leads, a handsome figure but nothing compared to Ivan. Heart hammering hard in his chest, Alfred smoothed his hair and took a deep breath, struggling for a calm state of mind as he placed one foot in front of the other, ears red beneath his valet cap. The two took notice of him, instantly stopping their chatter to address him with curious looks. Taking his cue, Alfred opened his mouth and did his best to make a coherent greeting.

"Howdy!" he chirped, the first word to come to his mind. He shut his mouth up instantly as the two exchanged glances, Ivan looking away without saying anything as the other dancer nodded to him.

"Bonjour, monsieur," he greeted, reaching a hand up to his hair to pull out the ribbon from it, his blond locks slipping free to frame his face. Not expecting yet another foreign voice, Alfred swallowed thickly, blushing hard at the Frenchman as he continued to speak in French at Alfred, embarrassing him further. Never in his life had Alfred felt so uneducated, his memory of long ago high school Spanish classes useless to him now as he kept meeting bilinguals.

"Francis, don't be mean to him," Ivan scolded, and Alfred felt his heart drop into his stomach in an instant with so much force he felt he was going to faint. Not only did Ivan possess beauty and power beyond compare, his voice sounded like a choir of angels in Alfred's head, and he shuddered. Still unable to form words, Alfred could only stand there awkwardly as the Frenchman chuckled at his expense.

"You're right, you're right.  _Ah bon,_  where are my manners? Hello," he greeted with a playful nod, Alfred slowly giving him one in return, eyes flitting anxiously between him and Ivan. Sweet Ivan, so handsome and cool, far too cool for Alfred's burning face and sweaty palms.

"A-ahm, hey! I'm Alfred, I work as one of the aisle attendants, uhm… Just wanted to say that you looked great out on the stage!" he blurted out in a rushed mess, head bowed to stare at Ivan as Francis chuckled, seemingly charmed. Feeling his mission complete, Alfred sighed and relaxed a little, letting out that hot breath he had held for far too long. He had done it. He'd broken the ice between him and Ivan and now maybe they could continue talking–

"Oh, thank you so much!" Francis beamed brightly, coming around the table as Ivan remained in his chair, eyes downcast as Francis gripped Alfred in a startling and overly strong hug. Choked for breath, Alfred screwed his eyes shut as he was picked up, and when his feet met solid ground again he opened them back up only to find Ivan gone, Francis excitedly talking about his dancing and all of his hard work.

No… Ivan hadn't wanted to stay and chat? Alfred tuned the other dancer out, instantly full of hopelessness. How could he face Ivan after this? He had wanted so desperately to have an opportunity to talk to him, and now it had slipped right through his fingers. Damn it! He winced when Francis slung an arm around him and leaned in close to his ear.

"So, perhaps you would like to join me in my room tonight, my little fan?" he cooed, and Alfred gasped and quickly shoved out of his grasp.

"U-uh, no, sorry. I gotta go. Now," he apologized and didn't take a second glance at Francis' confused expression as he made a quick and flighty escape. Crossing his arms, Francis watched him for a moment before realizing why Alfred seemed so distracted, going right back to searching.

"Well, this will be exciting…"

* * *

 

"Watch yourselves!" Ludwig barked at the dancers, his clapping hands like thunder as he called the music to a halt, interrupting the rehearsal. The performers groaned at yet another stop, Ludwig marching irritably over to them before smacking the ground with his pointing stick, glaring unhappily. "The leap must land here! I know you can reach that far, put more effort into it!"

"Yes, sir…" the women complained, everyone lethargic after the long rehearsal with far too few water breaks. Annoyed and increasingly frustrated with their lack of enthusiasm, Ludwig just dismissed them with a wave of his hand, sighing as he pinched his temples. He perked when the side door creaked, a now-familiar blond head poking in through it. Deciding to give his troupe a break he officially dismissed them, walking over to talk to Alfred.

Giving his best toothy and beaming smile, Alfred shook his hand again, glancing around Ludwig's form every so often to see the people pass by on the stage. "Hey! I was going to sweep the rows again, you don't mind do you?"

"If you'd like to watch, sit on the sidelines and don't prove a distraction," Ludwig scolded, now used to Alfred's antics after a week of the man coming in during their practices. Grinning widely, Alfred trotted after him as the choreographer went back to the stage.

"Alright, break is over! Back in your places! Roderich, from the top of the third movement, please," Ludwig ordered, shouting instructions with that powerful voice of his as his dancers had to relinquish the water bottles they had just retrieved. Alfred scampered to the side and plopped down excitedly, crossing his legs beneath himself as the males led their partners back out onto the stage, their feet a flurry of criss-crossing movement across the stage as the violins joined in with the piano. Catching a glimpse of Ivan with his usual partner, Alfred sighed and leaned in, resting his chin on his hand as he sat and ogled the handsome man.

"One, two-!" Ludwig articulated the music with clapping hands, grumbling when his performers didn't quite do the movement in time, only his stars getting it right on the first time. Ivan twirled and pushed himself as hard as he always did, the only evidence of his effort being the strain in his neck when his jaw clenched. Everything else about the man exuded flawless ease and grace, his gentle smile and relaxed hand, his soft landings and composed movements the epitome of excellence and beauty. His partner matched well with him, and Alfred couldn't help but be a little jealous as he watched her calmly be spun up and lead around in a beautiful airy dance. Mesmerized by Ivan, Alfred didn't even bother to look at the other dancers, not seeing Francis' over exaggerated and powerful dancing style or the way he eyed Alfred with a charmed smirk.

When Francis and Ivan retreated off of the main practice stage to let the women go through their group work, he nudged Ivan's side with his elbow, grinning. "That cute little valet is back," he noted, Ivan not replying as he bowed his head into his infinity scarf, bending over to fix his leg warmers. Francis crossed his arms and eyed Alfred, the man having taken a quick moment to check his phone. "Look, I think he's embarrassed that I caught him staring at me, isn't that just adorable?"

"Very," Ivan quipped back, standing straight again before flexing and stretching his feet diligently, his chest tight and his hands starting to get sweaty. Francis continued to babble about all of the simply delightful characteristics his supposed admirer possessed, kissable freckles, innocent blue eyes, a truly fuckable bubble butt, all the usual things. Ivan tuned him out and glancing sparingly at the blond, maintaining his stoic expression when he made eye contact with Francis, blushing and waving slowly. Francis positively squealed and Ivan couldn't handle it anymore, grabbing his water bottle before storming off, not even understanding why he was so upset Francis had such a devoted fan.

No, he completely understood why. Francis slacked off constantly, spending too much time socializing to prove his true dedication to the team, flirting with the women and treating the ballet like some mating ground where all he needed to do was prance around and then expect to be swarmed by ogling fans. Francis didn't deserve the attention it seemed everyone was oh-so-willing to give him.

Francis was nothing like Ivan. Ivan worked his entire childhood practicing at midnight when his family was asleep so they wouldn't break his music player or rip up his slippers, Ivan worked his entire life saving enough money to leave home and strike out to find a good troupe, Ivan worked himself to the brink of exhaustion every day to achieve true perfection… Ivan worked, Francis slacked. If anyone deserved attention and recognition for his skills, it was Ivan.

Sighing and mentally reprimanding himself for getting so bothered over it, Ivan chugged his water and crushed the plastic bottle in his firm grip, steeling himself quietly.  _Just breathe, chin up, pose, get back out there and show_ everyone _that you deserve what you've earned_ , he told himself with a determined little smile full of melancholy half-courage, stretching his back as he headed back towards the stage.

"U-uh, hey! Wait up!" a voice called out to him, Ivan turning slowly over his shoulder in confusion. No one should be here in the theater when it was closed, so–

His breath caught when he recognized that mop of wheat gold hair, those bright blue and starry eyes, those rosy freckled cheeks… Ivan's jaw clenched a little tighter, and he couldn't help but glare a little bit at the man who idolized a slacker like Francis. Alfred winced and slowed down, his waving hand cautiously retreating back to his chest.

"Uhm, hey," he nodded slowly, looking flustered and anxious, but Ivan didn't blame him. He should have been anxious with the way Ivan stared down his long nose at him. Feeling small, Alfred's shoulders hunched and his resolve wavered but eventually stabilized again. "Could I uh… talk to you?"

Ivan blinked slowly, a sinking feeling in his chest as he watched Alfred start to fidget. He nodded after a moment of staring Alfred down, his chin dipping into the loop of his infinity scarf as Alfred sighed with relief.

"Sorry if I'm a little uh, flustered and stuff, I really really look up to you guys and uhm," Alfred seemed choked up for words, face red as he most likely thought about Francis. Ivan's eyebrow twitched and he turned on his heel quickly, starting to walk off.

"You should. Ballet is no laughing matter, it is a serious sport and lifestyle," Ivan grumbled irritably, not sure how likely he was to refrain from punching Alfred in his charming face when the other man quickly jogged after him, insisting on walking next to Ivan as the other tried to go back to practice. Alfred hesitated before rediscovering his vocabulary.

"Yeah! I mean, you guys must be so strong, and I just really wanted to tell you that I respect you and uh… so! Would you, uh– maybe wanna get coffee sometime? I-it can be my treat!" Alfred blurted out, Ivan hesitating for a moment at the door that lead back to the stage.

"Shouldn't you be asking  _Francis_  that?" Ivan spat angrily and then stormed through the door in a huff, slamming it in Alfred's face as the blond gaped in horror at it, simply stunned.

That certainly could have gone a lot better.

* * *

 

Alfred didn't come to rehearsals for the following week, and stood by the door during performances instead of by the front most row where he normally was. Francis honestly barely even took notice, remarking just once that he had not seen Alfred in a few days, but Ivan noticed. He noticed, and he took offense. Why hadn't Alfred been watching as intently as he used to? Did he finally realize that Francis wasn't worthy of his awestruck gaze?

But all the same, it was starting to irritate Ivan and he couldn't understand why for the life of him. He felt it was somehow his duty to sit Alfred down and make him watch a real performer dance and glide across the stage, to understand how truly beautiful the art of ballet is! And so he worked and he danced and he flung himself around as he always did, but still Alfred always kept his gaze lowered and away from the stage, and Ivan had never felt so insulted. This almost hurt worse than patrons standing up and leaving the theater in the middle of the show!

But ever since he had started trying to do more and more to catch Alfred's attention, he could feel himself slipping and tripping up, missing a beat or even setting his partner down a little too roughly. How could he be doing this? What if the one time Alfred looked up all he got to see is Ivan failing like a clumsy, bumbling idiot?! The idea only frustrated Ivan more, and all of his pent up irritation ruined his dancing.

"Ivan," Ludwig stopped him during practice, the male lead panting harshly as he helped his partner up off of the floor from where he dropped her, the girl looking extremely pissed off and furious. Ivan didn't meet Ludwig's gaze when Francis took his girl away, cooing and doting over her in that charmed and flirtatious manner of his. Ivan's hands clenched into fists as Ludwig crossed his arms irritably and frowned at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"… Sorry," was all Ivan could spit out after a long pause, eyes downcast and averted as Ludwig continued to reprimand him. Their show was going to close in just two more weeks, and if Ivan continued to get worse he would have to be pulled from the choreography. Ludwig sighed unhappily at him, stress evident on his brow as Ivan quivered slightly.

"You need to get a grip. This is unacceptable, I expect more from you," Ludwig grumbled, his voice soft yet ever firm. Ivan clenched up more, his chest starting to ache from the force of keeping everything bottled up within him. Sparing him a pitying frown, Ludwig passed him a water bottle and called for everyone to clean up and head out, and that they'd continue later.

The other dancers whispered behind Ivan's back as they put away their things and did some cool-down stretches at their leisure, some pitying his rapid descent into failure and others scheming how they would rise to take his place. Francis came up to him with both of their bags, smiling expectantly at his fellow teammate. "Ready to go?"

"Nyet," Ivan grit out between his clenched teeth, snatching his bag away from his now-rival and moving off to the wall, setting it back down where he normally did. Francis quirked his lips and raised his eyebrows at the cold rejection, not sure now if he should put his things down again too. Ivan turned to glare over his shoulder, his pleasant smile of betrayal stretched thin across his normally angelic face. "I must practice. Go on ahead of me."

"Euh, right…" Francis frowned and then shrugged, taking a swig from his water bottle before chasing the girls out, the women giggling and waving at his addition to their clique. Letting out a seething hiss of breath, Ivan pulled out his mini speakers and his iPod, grumbling irritably as he stabbed the cord into the jack. He set it to shuffle and then moved to center stage as the last of the troupe let the doors click shut behind him.

Assuming first position, Ivan breathed deeply through his nose and started small, doing some pliés to stretch his leg muscles again, sweeping his arms through the various poses to loosen them and get his body into that flowing, liquid motion he simply loved about ballet. The music swirled around him and guiding his limbs through the movements, directing him up onto his toes before pulling him into a leap, dipping him backwards and helping him jump high into the air again and again, Ivan losing himself to the feel of the rhythm as if it had possessed him and controlled him, leaving him nothing more than a porcelain puppet on a string to do as bid.

Dancing and swirling about, Ivan decided it was time to get serious, face set as he prepped himself to go through his routine again and again. Prancing to the music played to give his toes an extra stretch and to play the proper music, he steeled himself against failure and took a deep, unfulfilling breath. Struggling to keep his hands poised and relaxed instead of in tightly clenched fists, he assumed the starting position, waiting for his intro before fluttering back to center stage, stretching his arms high above his head a little too quickly, the bend in his back sending a sharp ache down his spine, but he ignored it and continued. When he went up into arabesque, his ankle jerked to one side and it took all of his control to save himself by falling into fourth position, eyes wide and startlingly beginner mistake. The music didn't stop for mistakes, however, and Ivan struggled to get back on the beat, chasse-ing a few times until he was back on the right foot. He settled into a prep stance and swung his leg out and around like a whip, kicking up into his hopefully impressive fouette turns, whipping his head and leg around to maintain a vague spot off at the back of the theater while keeping his body constantly spinning faster and faster, not hearing a door somewhere nearby open up as blood rushed through his ears.

His foot slammed down a little too fast to the point that it stung when he turned out of the fouettes, and even as he felt tears start to prick the corners of his eyes, he continued, chanting the beat out in his head. _Tombe, pas de bouree, glissade, jete!_  he growled in his mind as he sent his leading leg swooping out from under him, lifting it high as the back kicked up as well, his long and dainty limbs striking an oversplit in the air as he sailed through it, and finally his overexerted body started to feel natural again, his balance and form perfect as–

"Ivan?" a voice called and Ivan whipped his head to look for the source, forgetting what he was doing until it was too late. He crashed to the ground when he couldn't quite get his foot down for the landing, the collapse echoing loudly around the stage. Alfred gasped in horror as Ivan let out a shout of pain, finally succumbing to exhaustion, fatigue, and agony. The valet rushed forward as fast as he could, throwing his broom aside as Ivan broke down into quiet wails of anguish, his hands gripping his ankle tightly as he rolled onto his side, quivering. "Ivan! Oh my god!"

"Agh!" Ivan gasped as he curled up on the stage floor, sobbing bitterly as Alfred dropped to his side with a heavy thump, hands groping at the air when he couldn't decide if he should lay them down on the handsome dancer's trembling and writhing body. Eventually he did, trying to bat Ivan's hands away from his leg.

"L-let me see it, o-oh god, I'm so sorry!" Alfred started to sob along with Ivan, a little from relief to find it was only twisted and not broken, Ivan hollering when Alfred tried to straighten it out. Next he knew, Ivan was shoving him aside with strong hands, toppling Alfred over and pushing him away. Ivan's shoulders hunched up defensively as he glowered and snarled like a rabid animal at Alfred, absolutely livid with fury.

"How dare you! You've  _ruined_  me!" he shouted bitterly, finally able to vent his frustrations as Alfred gaped in shocked horror and humiliation. He didn't hold back any longer, the pain egging him on to scream and shout as much as he needed, Alfred unable to do anything more than sit there and take the verbal abuse. "Do you even know what this means? What you've done to me?! I can't dance anymore!"

"I-it was an accident! I-I didn't know you'd still be in here!" Alfred scrambled to defend himself, tears dripping down his cheeks as Ivan tried to shove him again, the awkward position only making him shout in pain once more. Alfred covered his mouth and choked back a sob as Ivan eventually rolled onto his back in utter defeat, hiding his flustered face behind his hands.

"I'm  _ruined…_ " Ivan could barely breathe, the quiet little whimper breaking Alfred's heart. Ivan's pained sniffles turned into sobs of grief as he mourned the loss of all of his life's work, everything he had struggled so desperately for for years slipping right through his fingers at the height of his prime. All of his years and years of dedicated practice, determined grace, rounds and rounds of applause… gone. And it was all  _Alfred's_  fault.

"Oh god, this is my fault," Alfred exhaled in horror, blue eyes wide as Ivan froze up beneath his hands, Alfred restating his exact thoughts. Slowly moving his hands away from his face, Ivan gingerly straightened his leg out as best as he could, sitting up as Alfred bowed his head in shame and sobbed like a blubbering baby. "You're the best dancer in the whole troupe and you're the lead and the hardest worker and the most talented and, o-oh god, what have I done? Ivan, oh god, I'm so sorry…"

"You…" unable to come up with intelligent english words, Ivan just blinked slowly as Alfred scrubbed away his tears and went back to trying to help Ivan's ankle, his hands ghosting over the skin as he struggled to maintain some essence of composed decency.

"A-at least it's not broken a-and at most with a few days of rest you'll be fine again," Alfred sniffled, gently touching it before wincing away out of fear of hurting Ivan again. The ballerino eyed him carefully before grunting, moving his uninjured leg around to try standing up. Alfred lurched upright in a flash, stooping to pull Ivan up as well. Leaning heavily against Alfred, Ivan lifted his hurt foot up delicately, wincing only a couple of times as he started to hobble towards the break chairs, Alfred holding him upright as best as he could.

Collapsing onto the foldable chair, Ivan sagged and waited a few minutes to catch his breath, Alfred flitting around him and even fetching his water bottle without any prompting. Chugging the rest of it silently, Ivan just watched as Alfred trembled and waited for additional scolding, obviously shaken up and nervous. "Did you… mean those things you said? About my work?" Ivan asked after a long and quiet moment of contemplation, the words picked and placed carefully and methodically.

"Uhm, you mean how I think you're a great dancer?" Alfred blinked, not expecting the question instead of more yelling. Ivan's chin dipped down into his infinity scarf before he lifted his face up to scrutinize Alfred's the blond blushing darkly at the very intense look. "Of course! You're my favorite, I love watching you perform! Y-you're like, the be all, end all of fantastic dancers! Like, have you seen yourself? You're flawless!"

"You… mean all of that?" Ivan's voice took on a bizarre softness Alfred hadn't heard since that first time he had tried talking to the handsome ballerino, Alfred nodding vigorously to encourage him. Frowning, Ivan huffed and blushed, lowering his gaze to stare off at the floor as his sudden hopefully mood couldn't help but be soured by his doubts. "Shouldn't you be saying all those things about Francis instead? Since you like  _him_  so much?"

"Francis? Oh, you mean that other guy?" Alfred frowned in confusion, looking surprised and suddenly bewildered, puzzled at what Ivan would possibly mean by something like that. He shrugged nonchalantly, tipping his head back as he tried to even remember what Francis looked like on the stage. "I mean, he's  _okay_ , but he's nothing compared to you! Why would I want to say those things about Francis?"

"But… you had complimented him, and you're always watching him–" Ivan started to protest, the stung bravado in his voice tapering off when he saw just how much more confused Alfred became with each word. Eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn into a dumbfounded frown, Alfred crossed his arms sternly and stared.

"Watching him? No, Ivan… I only ever watch you?" he clarified, starting to blush as he admitted it. Silence spread between the two as the misunderstanding cleared the air between them, Ivan's fiery passion against Francis revealing itself to be a much more purehearted crush on Alfred, the innocent blond who gazed at his godly form with the awe of a child first seeing a starry night sky… Eyes locked, Ivan stared, mystified, as Alfred started to smile, making Ivan quickly duck his chin to hide his blush as Alfred understood. "N-no way, you thought I was watching Francis? No! Wait…"

Alfred squinted and Ivan's heart raced when Alfred stared even more intently at him, and he could feel himself sweating under his practice clothes as Alfred leaned in, his glasses glinting with playfully mischievous mirth. "Don't tell me… you were jealous of Francis the whole time, and that's why would were so cold? Dude! I thought you hated me!" he laughed with uproarious relief, Ivan wincing and blushing in angry embarrassment at being mocked.

"It isn't funny!" Ivan huffed irritably, cheeks puffing out as Alfred giggled and tried to stifle his mirth behind his hand. Calming down but keeping that adorable smile on his face, Alfred blushed and shifted from foot to foot, holding his elbow anxiously in a protective and self-reassuring hug. His smile twitched with trembling lips, Alfred's breathing starting to get irregular as if he were struggling to push words out of his mouth. The uncomfortable expression made Ivan wince and lean back, starting to get a little uneasy. "Wh-what?" he huffed, rather unnerved by the man staring so intently at him.

"So, I guess I'll try again. Uhm, h-how about we get coffee sometime? My treat?"

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please take a moment to let me know! I really would appreciate it! A rating from 1(bad)-5(great) would also be wonderful!


End file.
